Eight stops
by Twirlingdaisies
Summary: It's ten stops in the metro from university to home. After two stops, he entered my life. Eight stops left to lose my mind. AH, slightly OOC.


As I'm leaving university at 7 o'clock in the afternoon, rain is pouring down, so I take my umbrella out of my bag and make my way to the metro station as quickly as I can. I check when the train will arrive – 9 minutes, it's a little delayed. Living in a city as big as Seattle, you get so used to public transport arriving so often, that even this small amount of time seems like you have to wait forever. I take my phone out of my pocket to busy myself while waiting and check if I have any messages. Alice has sent me a short text:

Hey Bella, how are you doing? It's so exciting here, I can't believe it. And I've met so many great people already, we're heading out into town right now to party! :D Love you, A.

Alice, my best friend, had decided half a year ago, to go to London for an exchange year. Unlike me, she is blessed with the gift of meeting new people in no time at all. She just has this kind of energy about her that makes people like her as soon as she enters a room.

Hey Ally, I'm doing fine, as always. I'm glad, you like it over there; enjoy your night out! Love you, too.

Even though I have to admit to myself that I'm slightly jealous of Alice' social life, at the same time I'm not. I do like to go out once in a while, but I prefer to just relax at home by myself most of the time. I actually find it quite exhausting never to be alone.

My thoughts are interrupted by the train finally arriving, so I slip my phone back into its small pocket inside my handbag. I always put it in the same place in there, because it almost gives me a heart attack if I can't find it right away and think I might have lost it somewhere.

I enter the train and look for a free seat, there's one next to a middle-aged woman, so I make my way over there and sit down. I have to get off in exactly ten stops to get home. I don't know why, but in my head, I always count the stops left until I have to exit the train. I like to watch the people around me, how different they are. There's a young couple sitting opposite me. They don't look much older than maybe seventeen or eighteen, but you can see on their faces and how they look at each other, that they are in love. I miss having someone to look at like that. Since Jacob broke up with me one and a half years ago, I haven't had any sort of contact with the opposite sex that could be considered at least slightly romantic or even just sexual. I miss the feeling of somebody else's skin on mine. And, to be honest, I just really miss sex. Unfortunately, I'm really not the type for one night stands.

After two stops, the couple gets up from their seats and leaves. The man that sits down in one of the now empty seats is reading a book. He looks to be older than me, maybe even over thirty, but I'm really bad at guessing peoples' ages, so I'm not sure. What I am sure of, though, is that he is stunning. Tousled brown, slightly reddish hair, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. His white T-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders and defined chest and from what I can tell with him sitting down, he looks to be really tall. He's looking down at his book, so, unfortunately, I can't really see his eyes. There's a gym bag sitting by his feet. As I'm staring at his features, he suddenly looks up. His eyes are a really deep shade of green; there are no traces of any other color there, just pure green. Mortified at being caught staring, I can feel my cheeks getting warm. I try to smile at him, which feels more than an awkward grimace, to be honest, and quickly look away. In my periphery, I can see him continuing to read. I look at him out of the corners of my eyes ready to look away immediately so he wouldn't be catching me staring again.

He packs his book away, so I blatantly try to look anywhere but at him. I feel like sometimes he's watching me but every time I turn my head to check, he isn't. I wish, I wouldn't have put my hair into a ponytail this morning. It just looks way better when it's open, which is how I wear it all the time, normally. However, this morning I chose the more practical hair style, regretting it now.

The train is stopping again. There are now only four steps left until I have to get out. I move my feet to the side in order to let a man pass me. As I move them back into position, I slightly step on his feet, by accident.

"Sorry." I mumble quietly.

He smiles a little and nods his head, but doesn't say anything. He gets some crinkles in the corners of his eyes as he smiles. He's really breathtaking. I am hoping for him to start talking to me, but he doesn't. As the train halts at my stop, I stand up, slightly disappointed.

As I'm walking home, I can't stop thinking about him and at the same time mentally scold myself for it. Why would he be interested in me? With my 22 years I am probably way younger than him, he surely wouldn't see me in that way, even if he thought I was pretty. Which, many people have told me, I am. At some point I have started to believe them and see myself in a different light. Of course, there are a lot of features on myself, that I don't really like, but I try to focus on the other things. I have pretty, full lips and my eyes are a very deep shade of brown with long lashes framing them. I have full, straight, dark brown hair; so long it touches my belly button in the front. And I especially like my height – five foot seven. I actually think, it's perfect – I'm taller than many other women, but still not too tall. What I like most about myself, are my legs. They are long, slim and toned, even though I don't do much sport at all, and look great in a pair of skinny jeans.

I arrive at my house and take the stairs up to the fifth floor – the elevator isn't working at the moment. At least it gives me some much-needed exercise. I arrive on my floor, breathing slightly heavily and open the door to my apartment. Amber, my one year old cat, greets me in the hallway by brushing against my legs, meowing.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm giving you food, don't worry."

I make my way to the kitchen to, first, open a can of cat food for Amber, and then, start to make myself some mac and cheese. I have had cravings for it the whole day, so I enjoy the way the cheese melts, excited to eat. When the meal is finished, I take my plate and some water to the living room and make myself comfortable in front of the TV. It might seem pathetic, but I love evenings like this, just sitting in front of the TV with food and relaxing. Still, I am wishing for someone to sit next to me beside my cat.

My thoughts go back to the man in the train, he really was one of the most handsome men, I have ever seen. I wish, I was one of those girls that have to courage to just go up to a man, they like and talk to him. I'm not, but right now I'm regretting not gathering all my courage and just doing it anyway.

As I make my way to the metro the following day at 7 o'clock again, I am hoping that I might see him again. I am scanning the faces of the people entering the train where he entered yesterday. I've gotten really pathetic, I guess. But he doesn't show up. Neither does he show up the rest of the week.


End file.
